Fallen Angel
by XHellXGeistX
Summary: The story of an ODST during the Human-Covenant War as he struggles against the brutality of the Covenant onslaught, personal loss, and the harshness of combat. Loneliness, fear, and desperation need to be conquered if this soldier wishes to survive.
1. Authors Notes

Let me start out by saying that **I absolutely do not own Halo and I hereby take no credit for anything except my literary work itself. From this point on, for every chapter of this piece, I want that to be clear. Halo belongs to Bungie Studios and Microsoft, and I wish to applaud them for their work.** If you want to skip to the first chapter, go ahead. I needed to make that clear. I don't want anyone losing interest in my story off the bat just because I've put authors notes first, though I do intend to include some info that will help people that read on understand the story better.

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That aside, this is my first fan fiction. Even noting this, I do not want anyone to go easy on me, if you feel so compelled to, tell me what you think. Point out what you don't like, be it flaws or absurdities, accuracy, character formation, etc. If you feel so compelled to, tell me what you do like. I'm open to suggestions and critics. That being said, I'm not going to beg you to review either. Do what you will, and take away what you want from this piece. I'm open to anonymous reviews if you wish to flame, and I have my email posted. I'm writing this for me, but I do want to know if my writing has any bearing in the real, open world. Thank you for taking your time to read it, if you choose to do so.

My inspiration for writing this piece came when I first saw the Halo 3: ODST live action trailer not too long ago. For those that have not seen it yet, I consider it mandatory if you wish to read and enjoy this work. Another thing is that I got a lot of information from "Halopedia" online. I highly recommend it. This is where I found out much of what I'm going to write on the ODST. If you have not guessed by now, this entire piece as I see it now will pertain entirely to the ODST. No Master Chief of Spartans here.

I wanted to give the characters somewhat of a Russian feel to them, hence some of their names. I do this not because I'm Russian, but because if you look it up you see that is what the live action trailer is supposed to convey. I want to be at least mostly canonical to the Halo universe. I wish readers to imagine that the characters aren't speaking English, but Russian. Let us suppose that the planet they come from was mostly colonized by the future Russia, for the sake of this story. Now, I do not know much of the Russian language or culture, so I do not wish for any of my possible Russian audience to become offended, I extend my apologies if you do. The Russian references are there because of the trailer, not because I claim to know anything about Russia.

Part of the purpose of this piece is to examine the brutality and the nature of war, and the idea of humans fighting for one another as a species and not against each other for once. I am sure this fiction will deserve its "M" rating due to language and graphic violence, so it would be wise to turn away if that bothers you. There will be strong romantic overtones as well, though you will not find descriptive sex here. I also warn anyone that might read that if you are religious, you may be offended and may wish to also turn away. The piece will not be brutally serious, though not a comedy. My humor is dark and cynical. If you're still reading by now, I can tell you're going to be a faithful reader. Thank you for you attention, I think you will enjoy. Moreover however, I felt the need to dedicate this to someone, though I feel like I lack someone to dedicate this too. So, I dedicate this work to that someone in my future that will grant me hope when I am hopeless, tranquility in my sorrows, and true love in my loneliness. I hope you all enjoy Fallen Angel.


	2. Through Hell

**"And my army of brothers went over the hilltops, drenched in blood we may be... but fighting is all left to me... Together with my army of brothers... down we fall... darkness in all... through hell!" – "Light of Aidan – Lament" By Café del Mar**

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_**Blood.**_ All Staff Sergeant Kostya Stark could see was blood. Both Human and Covenant blood came together to make disgusting shades, and as the smell assaulted his blood-caked nostrils; he wanted to puke. Actually, that was all he could think about. Since the fighting had begun, he wanted to vomit. As much as he hated to admit it, he also wanted to cry. He missed the family he so woefully left behind. The exhausted Staff Sergeant couldn't help but let a lone tear cascade down his hardened face, the teardrop made a streak on its way down as it washed away the dirt and smoke residue that had resulted from their previous engagement.

Thinking about them hurt his heart more than any spike, explosive, or plasma could. He had been forced to leave behind his beloved daughter, Karina, as well as his wife Lydia. He longed to kiss both of them, hug them tightly, and never let them go again. Lydia had sent him a hologram of her holding their child not too long ago, along with a voice recording of her saying "I love you Kostya, I miss you. We both do." In it, he could hear Karina giggle happily at the mention of his name. Karina grew a little more day-by-day. As wonderful as it was to be able to see Lydia's gorgeous smile again, and hear his tiny newborn's giggle, it also pained him dearly.

When he was drafted, it was serve or die. They needed all them men they could reasonably get. Women were encouraged but not forced. If it were not for Karina, Lydia told him, she would have gone with him; but they both knew their child needed a parent. The weary Staff Sergeant quickly wiped the teardrop away with the back of his black armored gauntlet, the now trademark helmet of the Troopers at his side. He was an ODST. He would cry when he was alone. Then, or when he was dead. Not now in front of his soldiers.

As devastated as he and his wife were, Kostya was glad she wasn't here. As he surveyed the scene before him, he saw all the "fortunes" of war. Of course there was blood. Of course it smelt bad. Of course there were dead monsters strewn here and there, but there was one thing in particular that the grizzled Staff Sergeant did not want to see.

Numerous UNSC Troopers in black clad armor littered the desolate battlefield. Most of his men were dead, and the dead were littered throughout. Even though Kostya was only a Staff Sergeant he had been made Platoon Commander when the previous Commander had a botched jump.

Apparently his HEV failed to deploy its drag chutes. Their doomed commander was turned to a bloody pulp on impact, with no chutes to slow his decent. Really, it could have happened to anyone. It was the death they all feared as ODST, they called it: "Digging your own grave." When he radioed Command to confirm the death, he was told that he was the new Platoon Commander. As luck would have it, they lost their trained commander at impact, at their most crucial moments during the fanatic chaos.

They were being torn to shreds from the start. The worst part was, it was not an isolated case. Even though it was only the beginnings of the Human-Covenant war, word had it that the 19th Shock Troops Battalion was just about halved since First Drop. His glazed eyes glanced around the war-ravished land. Twisted metal. Torn limbs. Multicolored gore plagued the landscape, and guns were littered here and there. Some of them with their owners hands still attached, fingers tight around the trigger and the magazine empty.

Everywhere he looked it was the same story… This one didn't have a head. That one is missing half of his. That one died before he could be assisted, and feet away from him, another Marine had died before she could assist. He winced. It hurt Kostya the most to see women dead on the battlefield. He was glad that the sexist attitude of his race had long since lifted, but he hated to see women ODST dead most of all. He called them "Fallen Angels."

Every single "Angel" he saw reminded him of Lydia.

He looked at the frozen faces of the soldiers he and his platoon passed as they numbly trudged along through the grotesque mixture of grime, excrement, and blood to their destination. Their faces were probably frozen with the expression they possessed at death… The ones that still had faces anyway. He had seen it all happen before. He had seen plenty of people die, his people. Some of them even still had that thousand-yard long stare in their eyes. He could tell since many of the bodies were lined up in a row, helmets taken off in order to ascertain a positive ID on each body.

Kostya hated that distinct, ghastly look, even though he too was guilty of showing it time to time. Everyone who stayed here long enough did. Some so much that it became their new face, and the more you showed it, the more far-gone you were. The 21-year-old soldier hadn't been here for years, but already he looked aged. For a moment he almost stopped when he saw a soldier with a particularly young face. He looked like a real greenhorn, a private. Raw recruit. The minimum age to enter Hell was 18. He looked so boyish; he must have just turned the age. It also hurt him to think of his younger brother, Tarkov.

Tarkov was furious and inconsolable when Kostya had been drafted. Most families where he was from had multiple children, often at least three. It wasn't an overly large planet, but they possessed good resources for those who lived there. This was of course when their government chose to use those resources wisely, under a strong and beneficial leadership. For a while they were under planetary dictatorship. When economic recession came into play, there was a military coup, or rebellion. The people then took power with the aid of the military, and with the collapse of that regime they developed one that worked fairly and stable.

They then rejoined the UNSC, after so many years of that dictator isolating their planet. The sudden regulations for mandatory enlistment were harsh as Kostya witnessed first hand, but on a universal level, they made sense. Humanity was being threatened by a greater enemy, and then needed soldiers. They did, however, allow some preservation. Women were not mandated, only the oldest sons were mandated. This way, from his planet families could usually afford to give men without killing families and hindering their overall population.

All this in short, meant Tarkov was safe from drafting. Kostya was already here, carrying his family's "flag" so to say. He felt like a bargaining chip. But for Tarkov it was worth it. To try and fool authorities, they had made it seem like they were part of Lydia's family. By census they were. In reality however, him and Tarkov carried the Stark family name, not Lydia's, and he was forced to enlist. He was going to try to make it back, to them; he was going to try his damndest. If there was anything he knew in this world, it was that he loved Tarkov, Lydia, and Karina. They were all he had.

Though drafted, Kostya knew that if he had to join, he would sign up for the best training. Not just a Marine, but also an ODST. Not that it was entirely safer. The whole of the ware was extraordinarily dangerous. But as he researched it, he saw that the best-trained units had higher survivability rates. Due to the nature of the war, any direct involvement in the battlefield held highly precarious safety for a soldier. Women and capable elderly were sought for non-combatant training programs, and even children were taught and exposed to military procedure and low-impact training regiments.

These were times of intense war, and humanity needed to fight. What SSgt. Stark was afraid of however, was that things would get so desperate they would throw everyone they could into "Hell" as the ODST called it. If it was true of the wars of the past, it was certainly true of this one. War is Hell. "War is shit." He said aloud to himself. Kostya glanced behind him to see the forlorn faces of the men under his command. He took it as his job to try and end this now. The last thing that he wanted was for his new family and brother to have to be in his place right now.

He needed them away from the midst of the smell of death and smoke, bodies, and the fatal chaos that he was roaming into right now. He needed to defend them from that. He had a specific mission he needed to accomplish now. "I am an ODST." SSgt K. Stark thought to himself as he re-secured his helmet flipped on the display. He gave a quick hand signal to the men behind him and they quickly followed suit. Hell was encroaching; he could smell it. Some ways away, past a hilltop, a small collection of Brutes gnashed their teeth in anticipation.


	3. The Walking Dead

"**Only the dead have seen the end of war." -Plato**

Humanity was being overpowered on multiple fronts and hundreds of worlds had fallen to the covenant, either glassed or captured for resources. It became clear to High Command that due to devastating and rapid losses, quick action was needed. The idea was to limit Covenant resources. Covenant armies were near invincible due to the large amounts of resources they were able to dispense in battle. The alien enemy had begun using "Blitzkrieg" tactics.

They gained had the ability to engage in rapid self-perpetuating warfare because they were picking up resources along the way. Greater numbers, greater resources, and greater firepower spelt oblivion for all of humanity – if they did not act quickly they would be overrun, split up, and decimated. The collective of Covenant armor was near impenetrable at this point, and with their combined resources they were able to mass-produce genocidal behemoths, such as Wraiths. Even worse were the Scarabs, colossal weapons of near mass-destruction.

The Covenant War Machine was more monumental than ever, which is why humanity devised a plan to cut losses and limit enemy resources. All this time they had been to trying to push the enemy back and it was becoming too much of a desperate struggle. Loss of human infantry and armor was becoming unbearable. Logistics were failing as well - the Covenant were savvy. As soon as humans even came close to cracking through to their communications, the enemy changed their methods. In order to ensure at least prolonged survival humanity struggled to revamp its tactics. This was where Operation Black Plague came into the ugly picture, and where that already ugly picture became hideous.

Phase one of Operation Black Plague was in effect, and was intended as the answer to the enemy's growing ability to conduct war. Blacked Plague called upon select ODSTs to drop in on key resource planets to eliminate whatever equipment and personnel gave the Covenant the capability to extract resources. They were also to act as thieves, calling in special UNSC all-terrain units to take whatever resources possible before the shit really hit the fan. These were time-sensitive missions that called heavily upon Stealth tactics, guerilla warfare and covert night ops.

Kostya Stark was part of this operation.

He could still hear his Commanding Officer's words to him. "Don't think about the casualties." Be had said. Don't think about it for a moment or you'll lose all your nerve. Get in there and get out, that's all you need to do." Needless to say, it hadn't been that easy.

Many soldiers were to die in the decent to the Covenant controlled planet known as (ironically enough) Tranquility. It had been luxurious vacation area, both rich in resources and tourism. Before the war, it had been a place of beauty and business, its rich ecosystem, pollution-free beaches and well-developed infrastructure drew anyone that could afford to live or visit there for a while.

All was relatively fine there until the Covenant literally swooped in without warning, not even bothering to announce their occupation. They annexed vital resources, starved populations and butchered tens of thousands. Less than one-third of the initial population made it out alive and official reports of remaining survivors planet-side ceased to exist.

By that time the Covenant had begun extracting all they could from the planet in order to maintain their technology. They had literally sucked the life out of it. At the time of the operation the planet was rapidly and dynamically changing. Weather was reversing and Tranquility was in the midst of an ice age. The Covenant didn't even need to glass the planet. They destroyed it from the inside out. Countless species of flora and fauna went extinct, their once tropical home world utterly ravaged.

Orders were to infiltrate and secure necessary resources from the dying planet. They were then supposed to kill enemy communications and of course any enemy encountered along the way to extraction. Everything went hopelessly wrong from the beginning.

The probes that the UNSC had sent in – advanced as they were - completely failed to correctly analyze the situation that the ODSTs faced upon drop off. The probes had been launched during a snowstorm and the results that had beamed back to base were inadequate, to say the least.

Almost every soldier that was to take part in Operation Black plague that day was a lost soul – as good as dead.


	4. So That We May Live

"**We make war that we may live in peace." – Aristotle**

"To the launch bay! C'mon soldiers, we haven't got all day! This operation needs to start now!" The highest in command let out a stressed exhale, silently cursing to himself. The man's complexion was paler than usual, and it was obvious that he was stressed as he concentrated to keep his heartbeat still. The first phase of operation Black Plague was to launch in five minutes – the operation that would make or break their offensive strategy. High Command needed ODSTs on the ground by 0800 hours and they were already a couple of hours behind. The ongoing war had delayed the weapon and ammo shipments to the ODSTs that desperately needed them for the operation. Kostya Stark took his place next to his Drop Pod, trying to fight away the sinking feeling he got in the pit of his stomach every time he had to make a jump. Helljumper drops were named as such for a reason.

"Kostya! You look like you're about to shit yourself!" Kostya looked up to see his friend Artyom as he gave him a firm slap on the side of his ballistic armor. He shook the extended hand of his long time friend and comrade-in-arms in response. "Not everyone is as insane as you, Artyom. I know you love the drops, but I can barely stand them." Artyom laughed then gave his signature smirk, his bright white teeth contrasted with his dark skin as he put on his even darker helmet. " Our motto is 'feet first into hell' for a reason, my friend." Kostya shook his body out, trying to rid himself of his anxious nerves. "That it is. Have you seen Viktor or Dalek? "Not since breakfast," his friend replied, "but I'm sure they're on their way."

Sure enough, Viktor and Dalek came plowing through, Viktor had a wide grin on his face - obviously raring to go, and Dalek looked introspective. "Artyom, Kostya." Viktor greeted in them each in of them in his usual prompt manner. Both pounded fists with him and Dalek simply nodded his assent. Kostya quickly noticed something was off with his demeanor. "Something up, Dalek?" "Just broke off with the girl I was seeing." "You always get in with the wrong girls, Dalek." Kostya consoled his friend. " You'll be fine, you're much better off." "Easy for you to say," his dark haired friend began, "You have a lovely wife and daughter that love you more than air. I'm beginning to think that this whole 'love' thing isn't for me. Perhaps all I need is me and my rifle."

Artyom was more than happy to chime in his usual profane way. "You can't fuck a gun." He pointed out through a wide grin. "You just need to learn not to get so attached." Viktor decided it was his turn to speak up. "Not everyone is in it for the pussy, Artyom. Dalek has a good attitude, he just needs to find the right girl for him."

Viktor looked like he was about to continue, but was interrupted by the leading official onboard. "Form up!" He bellowed, "Everyone, weapons in check! Two minutes to launch!" The four friends stood in a straight line near their drop pods, shoulder to shoulder. They comprised Red Squad in this operation, usually distinguished by the red stripe going down their helmet, as well as other markings on their ballistic armor. Everyone had special armor for this occasion – it was more tightly sealed and with special padding to keep snow and ice out and body heat in. It was specifically painted with type of snow camouflage to aid the troopers in their special operation mission. On top of this, most of the weapons they sported were equipped with suppressors.

The four young men were remarkably distinct, and yet as closely bonded through camaraderie, training and combat. Kostya had a rugged look to him; he sported a light brown goatee, trimmed to regulation along with recently cut hair of the same color that tended to look disheveled. He had a light complexion and a distinct scar along his jaw line where he had an up-close encounter with an unarmed Drone. He killed the overgrown insect, but it left him with a "parting gift" of sorts. He was the submachine gunner in his squad, and good at providing all-around support and cover fire for his team.

Artyom was a childhood friend of Kostya's, he tended to be a real smartass and a womanizer, but nevertheless a reliable ally to have on the battlefield and a true friend. Despite having a tough childhood growing up in an orphanage, he had a good sense of humor and generally just loved life. He was especially muscular and he excelled at close quarters combat. To say he was good was an understatement, as he was downright ferocious. He received the nickname "Wolf" among his peers for ripping out a Jackal's trachea with his bare hands. The unfortunate Jackal had shot at him with a plasma pistol and grazed his hipbone. A furious Artyom barreled over and hit creatures shield away, snapping the animal's wrist in the process and overloading the shield in a single blow. Having rendered the personal shield useless, he choked the creature and personally taught it a fatal lesson for "nearly castrating" him. He chose to specialize with the shotgun to complement his already proficient skills.

Dalek was a quiet guy, with dark hair and tan skin. He was also on the smaller side - much to his ire, as it rendered him the butt of multiple pranks and jokes from the other soldiers. Nonetheless, he was strong in body, mind and spirit and was a tremendous marksman with a UNSC battle rifle. An introspective romantic in nature, he enlisted into the ODSTs along with his cousin Viktor, figuring that they would be drafted anyway. "Might as well get the good spots." His cousin put it. Viktor, the tallest out of all of them with a pale completion and dirty blonde hair, served as the voice of reason and maturity among their team. He was an all around nice guy, and he excelled at long-range marksmanship.

Each of them stood at attention in front of their Commanding Officer as he paced back and forth, back straight and head bowed as though giving deep consideration to something. "Alright, listen up men and women. As the Spetsnaz of our time, I expect you to uphold our legacy and I demand the best and only the very best out of you. I want to add that it has been an honor to serve with each and every one of you, and know that you will each give it your all on this mission, perhaps some of you even more. I sincerely hope to see you all again and I hope to once again have the privilege of fighting side by side another time. We have been given the green light for launch, so prepare yourselves for a live combat jump. You all know your mission, and you have your orders. There will be no more radio contact from High Command once you are on the ground, as it is imperative to the success of mission that radio silence is established and maintained. You are only allowed to communicate amongst yourselves via private communications and are only allowed to radio in once the mission is completed of in the event of a dire emergency. Dismissed, get to it."

A chorus of "Yes sir" and "thank you sir" rang out as the Commanding Officer concluded his speech and all the soldiers fastened their primary weapons into their harness and slid magazines into the side arms at their side. Each of them strapped themselves into the harnesses of their HEV and prepared for Hell on Earth. Kostya felt his nerves start up again as his pod closed in around him, forming an airtight seal. He could hear the pure oxygen being pumped into the pod, ensuring he didn't pass out during the drop. Kostya Stark breathed in deeply in an attempt to stave off his anxiety. As the 1-minute countdown began on his HUD, he whispered to quietly to himself. "I fight so that I may live in peace."


End file.
